


jot

by sunshine_captain



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshine_captain/pseuds/sunshine_captain
Summary: A collection of bits and pieces; standalone ficlets and drabbles.





	1. Stack of books with legs

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to create a little collection for my ficlets for a while! I've got a couple floating around on Tumblr already, this first one is one of them.

Gary slams the door of the empty apartment on his way out. He knows exactly where to find Jim. He’ll be where he always is on a sunny day with no classes.

Just as he expects, Jim is in his favorite spot on the Academy campus, on a marble bench under a large flowering tree. An ancient, thick paper book is open on his lap, and as Gary watches, a blossom from the tree drifts down into Jim’s hair. He brushes it out absently and turns a page.

Gary shakes his head. The sunlight turns Jim’s hair golden, and he looks so pretty it ought to be a crime to women that he won’t accept any of Gary’s attempts to set him up with someone.

“Jimmy!” he yells, striding across the grass towards his roommate. “How did I know you’d be here?”

Jim glances up at Gary and smiles, marking his place in the book with his finger as he closes it. “Hi, Gary. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Gary tsks and sits down beside Jim, slinging an arm over his shoulders. He has the almost overpowering urge to put Jim into a headlock and scruff up his hair, but he contains himself. The last time he did that, Jim dropped his book and panicked about getting grass stains on it.

“I had something better to do today,” Gary announces self importantly, and then leans forward, with the air of someone imparting top secret information. “I made plans for you for today. In an hour, you’re supposed to meet up with the _cutest_ little blonde lab technician—” 

Jim is shaking his head before Gary even finishes his sentence. “No, thanks, Gary. I appreciate it, but I’ve already got plans. I need to finish this book.” He raises the object in question for emphasis.

“You’re single-handedly murdering your social life,” Gary says in exasperation. Jim is the only person he knows that would rather read than go out on a date. Hell, he’s the kind of guy that eagerly starts reading his textbooks as soon as he gets them. “You need to live a little! Even if you’re not out for a relationship, go home with a girl, blow off some steam.”

He never hears what Jim is going to say in response, because at that moment a shadow falls across them and they both look up to see a Vulcan standing in front of their bench.

He looks naggingly familiar, Gary is sure that he’s seen him somewhere before, but he doesn’t have a name to put to the face. Jim, though, apparently knows exactly who the man is.

“Lieutenant Commander Spock!” Jim sits up straight, heedless of the fact that another flower has fallen into his hair. 

Right, that’s who it is. Spock, the first Vulcan to enter Starfleet, the first human-Vulcan hybrid, Spock, the cadet that was so brilliant that as soon as he graduated the academy he was chosen by captain of the Fleet’s flagship, the Enterprise, to serve aboard. Absolutely unheard of for a new officer. 

The Spock that Jim has spoken about admiringly late at night in their apartment over pizza, enthusing about how he became science officer and Lieutenant Commander, third in command of the Enterprise, in a couple years.

“He really is brilliant, Gary, you should read some of his research,” Gary hears Jim’s earnest voice in his mind and resists the urge to roll his eyes at the memory.

“Cadet Kirk?” Spock inquires, folding his hands behind his back and not even glancing at Gary.

“Yes, that’s me!” Jim says enthusiastically, then adds, “sir,” sheepishly.

“I read the paper you wrote about the Prime Directive and whether it applies to stagnant cultures. I wish to discuss it with you, if you are agreeable.”

“Oh, that thing? That was last semester, and not very good. I’ve read your findings about some of the planets the Enterprise has visited, I’d love to hear more about that.” Jim is standing up and tucking his book under his arm. “We could go to the coffee shop around the corner, if you want.”

Spock nods once and looks at Gary for the first time. “Good day, Cadet.”

“Seeya, Gary!” Jim waves and leaves with Spock.

Gary stares blankly after them, so surprised that he doesn’t get annoyed until they’re already out of sight.

So! Jim can’t make time for a date he set up for him, but he can run off with a Vulcan?

Snorting, Gary stretches out full length on the bench and closes his eyes. Jim can have his Vulcan. He’ll just have to keep the little blonde lab technician all for himself.


	2. close

Jim draws away from the kiss with a small sigh, cupping Spock’s jaw and brushing his saliva slick lips with the tip of his thumb.

Spock tilts his head into Jim’s palm, eyes warm and dark. The glitter of stars behind him through the observation deck window just adds to the beauty of the moment, and to Jim’s happy disbelief. This is real, this is _his._

He’s known for years now that he belonged to Spock, but until this evening, he never realized Spock belonged to him, too. 

But they were gazing at the binary star burning out light years away, his arm found Spock’s waist and his head Spock’s shoulder and ( _“Can I kiss you?” “Yes.” “Do you like this, is it okay?” “Jim, yes, yes,"_ ) one thing led to another.

The fingers of his other hand curve around Spock’s side, seeking out the spot where Spock’s heart beats, slow, so much slower than a human’s. Jim knows his own is rapid enough to almost be alarming to Spock, though Spock’s aware scientifically that that’s just the way humans are.

There is a difference between scientific knowledge and practical experience, of course. Just as there is between knowing something is felt, and hearing it affirmed vocally.

“Jim.” He wouldn’t call Spock’s tone shy, but there’s still a hint of tentativeness, like he’s not entirely sure he’s comfortable asking this aloud. “I arouse you?”

“Oh, Spock. Do you really need to ask me that?” He takes Spock’s hand, squeezes it, and leads it down so that Spock can feel just how much he wants him. “Of course you do. But you know, you have to know it’s more than that.”

There’s undisguised wonder on Spock’s face. He applies gentle pressure and his lips curve upwards at Jim’s gasp. “Yes. If it were not, I would not be standing here with you.”

He smiles, can’t help it. This response to Spock is as natural as breathing. “Then why ask? That's a very human thing, to seek verbal reassurance, Mister Spock.”

Spock's grip on the back of his neck draws him back in for another kiss, silencing his banter. No more room between their bodies for hands, Jim pressing himself to Spock, knowing they’ll fit together like this as well as they do on the bridge, backing Spock up into the window until Jim’s hands touch the cool glass, one to support himself and the other to cradle Spock’s head and protect him from the hard surface.

Behind them, the stars continues toward supernova, now unobserved.


	3. ceremony

They rise before the sun. Spock lays out their clothes, smoothing out every wrinkle with great care.

Jim brings their cups out onto the balcony and they sip their tea and coffee while they watch the sun come up.

Jim shaves Spock, sliding the razor carefully across the curve of his jaw. Old fashioned. Everything about this is, including the customary silence prior to their bonding ceremony.

When the shaving cream is wiped away, Jim brings his lips to the smooth skin, lingering there, enjoying the closeness and warmth. Spock's hand on the small of his back, he brushes his cheek against Jim's.

Spock combs Jim's hair, fingertips stroking through and messing it up all over again, requiring another round with the comb.

They get each other dressed, Spock's nimble hands familiar with the belt of Jim's robe, one Spock chose. Jim is slower with Spock's, nothing to do with the way he can't stop touching Spock's back as he seals the hidden fastenings.

Spock applies Jim's makeup, using his fingers to gently rub it into Jim's skin. It doesn't pass over Jim's head, the intimacy of a Vulcan using his _hands_ for such a task, rather than sponges or brushes.

Jim opts for light makeup, but Spock, as ever, favors his eyeshadow in bright colors. Jim realizes he's smiling, and has been since he woke up, as he dusts Spock's closed eyes with the powder. He grins wider over Spock's shoulder at the mirror.

Spock opens his eyes when Jim is done, and Jim's smile makes _him_ smile. It's like seeing a rare flower, a precious and delicate thing, Spock's smile. Reserved only for Jim, in these private moments.

In a short time, they're going to belong to each other completely. Jim will know what few humans have ever experienced, the sensation of a Vulcan bond. He’ll never be lonely again. Spock will never truly leave him. Even when they’re apart, he’ll be able to feel his husband.

Jim takes Spock’s hand, lifts Spock’s fingertips to his mouth and presses a kiss to them. Their wedding on Earth was wonderful, all their friends and their families in attendance. Jim’s mother cried her way through the entire ceremony, and Peter had looked charmingly awkward in his tuxedo. Spock’s parents had made the trip to Earth for the occasion. Amanda couldn’t stop smiling, and even Sarek had looked pleased.

It was lovely and romantic, especially their honeymoon, but this is on another level altogether. Jim is excited, terrified. It’s everything he never knew he wanted, before Spock.

Spock rises, offers his hands to help Jim up. They say nothing to each other, keeping to the tradition. They don’t need to. Spock’s eyes say it all. Jim’s not sure he would have the words to describe what this means to him, anyway, the way that Spock is looking at him makes him feel.

He hugs Spock, presses his forehead to Spock’s. Jim is creasing their clothes, maybe messing up their makeup, but Spock hugs him back, squeezes him tight. They breathe each other in, bask in their silent closeness.

The door to their room slides open, the signal that it’s time.

Spock touches the wedding band on Jim’s finger. The matching ring is on Spock’s hand. One last kiss, human and Vulcan, and they leave the room. Their future is waiting.


	4. fireworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throwback Thursday, a year ago I watched a fireworks display and got super sappy and wrote this. Just remembered it and tracked it down on my Tumblr (went to the same place yesterday and saw fireworks again, got sappy again.)

Spock had protested at first, of course, that he didn’t see the logic in the fireworks display. Why sit in the dark outside and watch pyrotechnic devices explode for entertainment?

It is so very _human_ a thing, but he has to admit, quietly, to himself that after a while he begins to see the appeal.

The blue and gold lights going off over their heads reflect on Jim’s upturned face. It increases his husband’s beauty, certainly, but that isn’t the only thing. There’s a small smile on Jim’s lips as he watches the fireworks disintegrate into small silver dots that almost look like stars. They fall towards them for a heartbeat, and then disappear.

It lasts only an instant, but that’s enough. Jim turns to him and smiles, finding his hand and squeezing it. Spock savors the contact, Jim’s contentment flowing through their touch and their bond into him.

Another golden burst explodes overhead, and Jim laughs in delight, nudging Spock to look as a red explosion briefly forms the shape of a Tellarite.

Spock squeezes Jim’s hand back and allows himself a smile. The moment calls for it.


End file.
